Fidgetless
by GreenMeansGo
Summary: Sirius always used to fidget…and it drove Remus mad. [Set during the First War. SBRL]


Disclaimer: I own nothing. J.K. Rowling owns Harry Potter.  
Warning: **SLASH**  
Summary: Sirius Black always used to fidget…and it drove Remus mad. (Takes place during the first war.)

**Fidgetless**

**By: GreenMeansGo**

Sirius used to fidget….a lot.

It was one of those things that used to drive Remus mad. Even back in Hogwarts when he was too anxious to complain about much, it was one of Sirius' attributes that he had taken to being openly tetchy about. Now, Remus regularly asked himself why, of all the little idiosyncrasies and quirks that Sirius possessed, that he chose to nag him about this particular habit. Of course the mercurial attitude, the restive nature, and the inability to chew his mutton pie without speaking, despite (or maybe because) the fact that everyone knew he had been trained since birth to have perfect table manners, annoyed Remus as well, but somehow the fidgeting was what always caught his attention. From across the common room, the incessant bouncing of Sirius' right knee while he considered his next chess move against Peter screwed Remus from a Potions essay due the next day. The bored drumming of Sirius' left hand as he yawned kept him from copying notes in DADA two weeks before exams. And Sirius' constant tugging on his shirt sleeves distracted Remus long enough to miss James' winning goal against Slytherin. Remus never could figure out what the problem was himself. It just seemed as if Sirius couldn't get comfortable; never find that proverbial niche between the armrest and cushion of the common room couch that Remus thought, if he did say so himself, was very comfortable indeed and warranted no fidgeting at all.

It was just so very ludicrous. Who would have thought that Sirius Black, with all of his bravado, urbane charm, and ready smile, was just as much of a nervous wreck as the rest of the awkward, gangly, and unsure students? Remus often mused that perhaps because he always kept up the appearance of the ever confident bloke, with the great hair and the voice that dropped before all the other boys in their grade, that Sirius had to show his nervousness in some different, wholly Sirius way. Or perhaps he was just a restless bugger. Remus never decided which he preferred.

That would have been enough already, but what hacked Remus off the most was that the fidgeting was contagious. During dinner, Sirius' fidgets would shake the entire table, never allowing Remus' pumpkin juice to completely still in his goblet. He could feel the changing distribution of weight through the bench as Sirius bounced his cursed leg as he sat beside him and caused the subtle _thump, thump, thump_ with his heel as students around them laughed and carried on. Remus would often swear that the bouncing gave him indigestion and the faint _thump thump thumping _initiated those headaches that began with a pinch between the eyes. After a few moments of building impatience, Remus often reached out and rested his hand on Sirius' knee in a feeble attempt to pass some calm. Every time, much to Remus' annoyance, instead of transferring some composure, Remus was swept into Sirius' realm of restless, or nervous, or what have you energy, just like he was swept into everything else that involved Sirius. The tremor did not still but rather passed into him, hand then arm then shoulder until his whole body was bouncing up and down in tune to Sirius' ridiculous _thump thump thumping_, leaving his stomach gurgling and eyebrows pinching. Remus used to wonder why he didn't just let go.

The restlessness didn't end with simple fidgeting. If he wasn't a twitching mess, he was biting his lips or pushing back his hair. Perhaps that was the reason why the student body believed Sirius was such a womanizer: constantly swollen lips. Remus would sigh irritably when girls glared suspiciously at each other as Sirius passed by, hair mussed, lips red, and shirt wrinkled. It was so ridiculous! It used to amaze Remus that no one seemed to notice these things but himself. It wasn't until November of sixth year that he began to wonder if maybehe noticed _too_ much.

Sirius was a squirming disaster complete with flailing limbs, chapped lips, and untidy hair when he first told Remus that he loved him the morning after the Incident. Remus couldn't believe it. After months of denial, self-hate and finally resignation, Remus dazedly found himself watching as Sirius nervously pulled at his shirt collar and fumbled an apology around his declaration of love. Remus vaguely remembered telling him to get out.

He saw less of Sirius' fidgeting in the next months. James and Peter were constantly attempting to get them alone together. "Work it out," James would encourage. "It isn't the same," Peter would softly utter as Remus refused. Sixth year ended, not with the usual prank, but full of quiet.

Sirius was upset and drunk when Remus unthinkingly apparated to his flat after hearing of Regulus' death. James looked worried and stressed when he opened the door and Remus didn't know what he felt. The night passed in a blur as he and James took care of Sirius, and Remus later guessed that it was sometime before sunrise when he unknowingly let sixth year go. The breeze that blew through the open window was thick with the promise of summer humidity when Sirius awoke the next morning, worrying his bottom lip as Remus looked over at him. Remus knew he'd always remember the look in those eyes as he offered him a glass of water.

Sirius' smile gave nothing away as he presented Remus with a key to his flat. As Remus tried to sift through the haze of surprise that clouded his brain, his gaze was drawn from the confident face down to Sirius' tapping foot. His ridiculous fidgeting always did seek out his attention, especially when he was trying to focus on something important. Remus exasperatedly placed his hands over wringing fingers before he kissed him.

Sirius even twitched in his sleep. Remus knew this because he had been jostled awake a countless number of times, only to be greeted by the drooling face of the slumbering man next to him. Remus often swore that these interruptions in sleep made him cranky in the mornings and that the drool in his hair didn't help his mood. Sometimes he contemplated slipping into his own bed for a change, but always found himself rolling closer to Sirius and burying his face into the well-known neck, leaving his hair to be drooled on. He could always shower in the morning.

Now that Remus thought about it, the only time he remembered ever seeing Sirius Black completely fidget-less was one rainy April morning when, over the usual breakfast of toast, scrambled eggs, and a cuppa, he had quietly told a freshly showered Remus that soon the war would be over and that they could finally go out for a proper evening together. Perhaps the reason Remus had whole-heartedly believed him was because he so desperately wanted Sirius to be right. Perhaps it was common delusion mixed with the hope that this stupid war couldn't naturally last _forever_. But as Remus looked back in retrospect, he suspected that the reason he had so readily agreed was because Sirius had spoken with drumless fingers and bounceless legs, the _thump thump thumping_ that he had unnoticeably grown accustomed to strangely absent. When the bouncing finally returned a few moments later, Remus rested his hand on Sirius' knee as usual, surprisingly relieved to hear his stomach gurgle.

After remembering all this; all the uncomfortable indigestion and painful eyebrow pinching, Remus found it most ironic that now, when that stupid _thump thump thumping_ was finally gone, presumably for good, he truly missed it. He instinctively placed his hand on the space next to him and was somewhat amazed when all he felt was the rough vinyl of the vacant couch cushion. Holding a barely touched glass of firewhiskey, Remus looked around the empty flat as shadows rose with the oncoming night, and decided it was entirely too Sirius-less, and entirely too still.


End file.
